Page 24 of Owned By the Mafia

“Mr. Sorvino, I must speak with you and Katya.” I walk straight to his desk.

He looks up and leans back. “Katya has gone out with the twins. What can I help with?”

“It’s the dissent, sir. It’s clearly among the lower ranks, and someone is orchestrating it. I have reason to believe there will be a hit on the Italian soldiers next. The Irish and Russians have already been hit.” I lean on his table. “We need to sort this out.”

“Just because the other families don’t have loyal men, doesn’t mean we don’t. Our men are good people…”

Gunshots sound outside, and Alessandro moves like a flash of lightning around his desk. He pulls me to the ground, protecting me.

The doors open, and Dominic hurries in with Carmine. “You okay?’

“Yes,” Alessandro calls. “Shoot the fuckers.”

There’s the sound of wheels spinning as a car drives off, and Carmine investigates through the windows. “I’ll be back with a report now.”

Alessandro helps me up and then turns to Dominic. “An attack? In my own fucking house? Find out where Katya and the twins are! If anything happens to them, the fuckers will rue the day their mothers birthed them.”

I stay out of the way as Alessandro paces. There’s no point in talking to him. Dominic comes back in first. “Katya and the twins are perfectly fine. The hit was targeted here.”

Soon enough, Carmine is back as well. “Four guards dead. One wounded who says it thinks they were Russian.”

“Volkov’s men wouldn’t dare,” Alessandro roars. “I’m going to see him.”

He turns to me. “I’ll send our men to your offices, keep them calm, and reassure them we will sort this out.”

“Alessandro, just telling the men to be loyal isn’t reassuring. We need to do more to ensure the men stay loyal, give them a reason…”

He glares at me. “Here’s a reason. Show loyalty, or I’ll put a bullet between their eyes myself.”

“I don’t think that’s the answer. I’ll come back when you’re calm.” I turn and leave. The Mustang has a few bullet holes, but it can drive. I rush back to the office, dialing Robbie’s phone.

“There was an attack at Alessandro’s house. Meet me at the new offices.” I don’t give him a chance to respond, but I hang up and try to focus my thoughts. It won’t take long to summon the men to the meeting, and I need to get ahead of this.

I pull into the parking and go to the massive conference room on the first floor. Men are already there, mumbling among themselves. They’re less than happy to see me, but they know I work for Alessandro.

When Robbie walks in, though, they’re even more irate. They might listen to me, but they won’t take orders from the Irish family as far as they’re concerned.

Once the majority of the men are there, I stand on the small stage that’s been put in the front and start to speak to them about the attack and how it’s being done on purpose, that someone is looking to divide the families.

There’s a lot of talking over me and complaining, and I keep addressing them, trying to keep them all calm.

I should have known Robbie wouldn’t take it for that long, and when I pause for a moment, he steps toward one of the men complaining in the front.

“Why don’t you shout your filthy mouth and listen to the people in charge?” he growls. “You don’t know the half of what’s going on.”

The man, whom I don’t recognize, pushes Robbie away from him, swearing at him in Italian.

I recognize the words as an insult to Robbie’s mother, and clearly, Robbie knows that too because he throws a punch straight at the man’s face, and they go down, hitting each other.

Everyone starts shouting the odd word until I get off the stage and try to get Robbie off. I eventually pull a gun off him and raise it, pointing to the back ceiling and firing three rounds.

Everyone falls silent and freezes, looking at me.

“Quinn. Get the fuck out now.”

Robbie looks at me incredulously, and I can tell he’s mad, probably because I’m ordering him around when he assumes he is just helping. I glare at him, and he brushes himself off and storms out of the room. “I’ll be outside.”

I look at the bleeding Italian on the floor and lower the gun. “You’re lucky I don’t shoot you and the Irishman. You have forgotten to respect those of a higher ranking. Do I need to remind you how we, as a family, deal with that disrespect?”

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